


all the things that never were

by notthelasttime



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (kinda???), .....not all of these things at once lmao, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet Collection, Implied Past Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mass Effect AU, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/pseuds/notthelasttime
Summary: A series of snapshots of things that never happened, in places that don't exist.The ways they could have met and the lives they could have lived.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively: all the fic i haven't written  
> mostly written as practice & i thought i might as well throw them up here ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"Oh shit, _shit_ , sorry man, are you okay?"

If the guy in front of him was angry, he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. His expression was flat, not upset but definitely not happy, and this close Nyx could see all the little marks and scars that covered his face. His eyes were still a mystery behind those dark sunglasses. Nyx had wanted to get a better look at him, something more than glances stolen across the crowded coffee shop while he was resolutely pretending not to stare. He just hadn't really wanted it to happen like _this_ ; smacking a blind man with a door and covering him in his own steaming coffee.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." At least he was wearing a dark shirt, that was something. He wouldn't have to be covered in a big brown stain when he went to... wherever he was going. Just a giant wet spot instead. Great. Nyx was nervously patting at his shirt, like his bare hands could do anything to sop up the mess and he only belatedly realized just how handsy he was being with this complete stranger, one that relied on touch more than anyone else. Nyx snatched his hands back.

Fucking hell. What a mess. 

"It was a mistake, and I assure you I am fine."

"Let me buy you another coffee at least," Nyx said, and was only a little put off when he heard the man sigh through his nose. "Listen, I'm pretty sure I just ruined your day, and it'll be worse without caffeine."

"...Very well then."

Nyx was no stranger to the coffee shop on the corner of Maple Street, often killing time there before his shift at the bar down the block. His companion was a regular as well, and Nyx had been something like fascinated with him since the first time he saw the man, handsome and mysterious, tilting his head to listen to the sounds of the shop while he drank his coffee. Nyx liked him. He didn't even really know why, but he did.

"This guy bothering you, Ignis?"

The young man behind the register, _Noctis_ , his name tag read, was eyeing him with a look that was bordering on hostility ( _not that he didn't deserve it_ ). He'd probably seen Nyx staring down at his phone instead of paying attention to where he was going and colliding with the _blind man_. Was there a word for humiliation to the nth degree? Because Nyx was feeling it.

"It's fine, Noct," Ignis said, quirk playing at the corner of his mouth in something than may have passed for a smile. "He's offered to replace my drink." That seemed to placate Noctis, even if he did give Nyx a final parting glare before going to make Ignis's coffee.

A half dozen more apologies while they waited, and Nyx felt sure that he was looking less taciturn, more amused. 

It wasn't exactly how he'd imagined his first time buying Ignis coffee, but Nyx hoped it wouldn't be the last. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

 

Nyx didn't know what the hell he was doing.

He wiped a sweaty palm on his pants before taking another sip of his drink, couldn't stop his leg from bouncing under the table. Would it be too late to bolt? Maybe he could still sneak out of the hotel bar before-

"Mr Ulric?"

 _Nevermind_. 

Nyx turned his head to look at the man that had materialized beside his table and well... maybe seeing where this went wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I'm Ignis, it's a pleasure to meet you," Ignis held out his hand and Nyx shook it before Ignis sat down, quickly waving over a waiter so he could order himself a drink; a dirty martini. It gave Nyx time to look him over, the styled hair, the pout of his mouth and strong jaw. The top of Ignis's shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the dip of his neck and Nyx was having a hard time keeping himself from staring. A flustered embarrassment was quick to follow however, from just how fast he could look at Ignis and decide that he desired him. It had been too long, far too long since he'd been close to someone, in any manner of the word. And wasn't that the fact that had put him in this situation in the first place?

Nyx had hired an escort for the evening. 

It was Luche's idea, or rather his _fault_. After he'd found out about Nyx's dry spell, well, relentless might have been the accurate word. 

And as Luche had said, it wasn't like he didn't have the money for it, not like he couldn't afford someone classy, discrete. _They have websites for that kind of thing. Pay enough and you can get someone good_. Of all the things Nyx was lacking, money was not one of them.

There had been an accident when he was outside the wall, what should have been a routine security run turned into something nasty because someone, somewhere had fucked up and sent people somewhere they shouldn't have been. Nyx had almost died, thanks so some accidental _friendly fire_. But he didn't. What he got instead was a shit ton of hush money and a bad case of PTSD. Would have seemed like a dream from the outside, enough cash to live out the rest of his life in comfort, honorable discharge from the Glaives. Except that at times it felt like his head was on backwards, a mess of memories and feelings, and people... Well, he'd had a hard time keeping new friends. Relationships were out of the question. 

Nyx took another sip of his drink. 

"Ignis, I'm going to be honest with you," he said, and Ignis pierced him with a look from over the top of his glasses before resting his chin in his hand.

"I'm listening."

"I've never done anything like this before. To be honest I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know what to expect. I'm not even sure I want to be here right now." All he did seem to know that Ignis was incredibly attractive. Probably out of his league, which only seemed to hit home the fact that this was a paid experience. 

Ignis smiled at him.

"I do appreciate the honesty," Ignis said, leaning in close, "so I'll do the same for you." Underneath the table, a warm hand found its way onto Nyx's thigh. "How about this: we order a few drinks here, make conversation, then you can take me out to dinner. If you like where things are going, I'll bring you back up to my room and you can fuck me as many times as you want." There was heat behind his eyes now, and if this was all an act then he was doing a very good job of being convincing because bit by bit Nyx felt his reservations slipping away. It wasn't just wanting, it was about being wanted. Abruptly, Ignis leaned back, the hand was gone. He crossed his arms, "If not, we say goodnight and go our separate ways. Does that work for you?"

Nyx had to take another sip of his drink before he could reply, back of his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah, I think that works for me."

"Excellent."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ignis knew it was him, everything from the cadence of his movement to the weight of his steps, how he opened the caravan door in a way that was supposed to be quiet, but it had woken Ignis up all the same. But that was good, it gave him time to collect his thoughts and clear the sleep from his head just enough so that when Nyx slipped into the bed behind him, wrapping an arm around his stomach, he was able to speak.

"Do you make a habit of sneaking into random caravans late at night?"

He felt Nyx smile against his shoulder, the puff of hot breath out of his nose when he tried to stifle his laugh.

"Only when I know they're occupied by handsome men," he said, and pressed a kiss to his back. "Gladio told me you'd be here." Another kiss. "Glad I caught you, thought I might lose it if I had to wait to get back to Lestallum to see you." A pause, another kiss, words whispered like he was sharing a secret, "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Another secret. 

Forming attachments at the end of the world was asking for heartbreak. They both knew it, and yet both couldn't seem to stop. From the moment Ignis had hunted Nyx down in Lestallum, there had been a spark, ignited by something only the two of them could understand. Gladio and Prompto had been kind, understanding, with endless patience as he fumbled his way through the dark. But they didn't know. They didn't know what it was like to wear the ring of the Lucii. 

There had been rumors of a Glaive, half dead crawling out of the destruction of Insomnia, rumor about what he did, how he'd done it. Ignis had to know if it was true. Had to know if there was someone else. 

Ignis turned in Nyx's grasp so he could face him, kiss him properly, hand cupping the side of his face that held the worst of the scars. 

He'd found Libertus first, back in Lestallum. And Libertus had laughed and said, _good luck, he won't talk about it with anyone_. And Nyx hadn't wanted to talk, not until Ignis, frustrated and annoyed had taken off his glasses and asked just what kind of magic he thought left those marks. 

And later, laying together in the dark, Nyx let Ignis's hands be his eyes as he took a look at Nyx's scars for himself. 

Magic and power always came with a price. One they had both been willing to give. 

"You should sleep," Nyx said, between lazy kisses, Ignis already half drifting off again as much as he tried to fight it. There was so much to do to keep the world from falling apart, and soon they would have to part again, not seeing each other for days, weeks, months. For now he wanted this moment.

"Sleep, Ignis," whispered in his ear, losing consciousness even as he tried to hold onto it, "I'll still be here when you wake up."

Ignis was going to hold him to that. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“That’s for courage,” Nyx said as he felt Ignis tap at the tiny arrow tattooed under his eye. It was followed by a low _hmm_ , Ignis’s thinking noise, as Nyx called it, and he felt those fingers begin their wandering course over his skin again.

Late afternoon sun streamed through the open bedroom window, sheets a haphazard mess strewn around the two of them. It was Friday, Ignis’s light day with only a morning lecture, and he’d come straight over to Nyx’s place afterwards, one thing on his mind. Nyx, predictably, had been all to happy to indulge him.

“And this one?” He traced the thin black line circling Nyx’s forearm.

“Strength.”

“ _Hmm_ , well you certainly have plenty of that.”

That got Nyx grinning. Ignis, ever curious, full of questions about Galahad, about the war, and Niflheim, looking at Nyx like he was something interesting, like he’d lived some kind of fantastic adventurous life, like he wasn’t just a washed up soldier. Nyx had to be careful here, had to tread lightly and be mindful of just what he was doing. He felt some kind of responsibility in this, weary of somehow leading Ignis astray, still so young. Young but not naive, ever critical of the world, but not yet old enough for cynicism to set in. There was something beautiful about the way he still saw life as something other than cruel.

Maybe Nyx felt responsible, but he was feeling less and less like the one in control.

They'd met at the University, when Nyx was a guest speaker at a panel the school was hosting for it's students, something with an ambiguous title like _The Effects of the War in the North_. He'd done it as a favor to Cor, regretting it almost immediately after he accepted. Nyx was not an intellectual, hadn't managed to finish his own degree before he'd been swept off by the military. But the students seemed to like picking his brain, a refugee turned solider. On student in particular, sitting up front wearing thick rimmed glasses, raising his hand with question after question after question. The student stayed behind after the panel was over too, grilling Nyx until he'd cut him off and said, "You're going to have to buy me a beer if you want me to answer anything else," maybe only half joking.

And the young man in front of him hand blinked behind his glasses before he tilted his head and said, "Alright."

It took two beers for things to get flirty.

Three and Nyx was asking Ignis to come back to his apartment. 

Soon after they fucked and Ignis was getting dressed again. Nyx felt a twinge of something, embarrassment maybe, or something even uglier, all falling away again when Ignis fished a pen out of his bag and wrote his number on the back of Nyx's hand, then kissed the ink. He was sorry to leave so soon, he said, but he had a night class to get to, and couldn't they meet again soon?

"And where is the mark for ego? You seem to have that in abundance."

Nyx took Ignis's hand in his own, dragged it down his stomach to the base of his cock and said, "Right here."

Ignis was fighting a smile despite himself, Nyx could see it and he couldn't help himself from laughing. 

"You're ridiculous," Ignis said, trying to sound indignant but Nyx knew him better than that. The fact that Ignis had taken Nyx in his hand and started stroking only showed the truth of the matter. 

Maybe Nyx was just a fling, some way for Ignis to pass the time when he was young and could live without consequences, something fun but not serious. Then again, maybe he wasn't.

Either way, Nyx couldn't say he was sorry for it. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The air carried with it the bite of fall, crisp breeze picking up the King’s banners, sending them flying in a swirl of black and gold embroidery. But the sun was still warm, shining bright through skirting clouds, light setting the colored leaves of the trees on fire. It smelled like dirt and horses, even up from where the Prince and his retinue sat raised above the rest of the spectators. The final round of the joust was about to begin.

A cheer rose up from the commoners packed onto the grounds as one of the competitors appeared.

His horse was an unruly black beast, one that only his master could tame, and it's rider sat tall, obsidian armor glinting in the sun, a cape of deep purple strung from his shoulders, draping down the back of his mount. His helm was already in place, as it had been when he'd appeared at every other event, face hidden behind his visor. It was adorned with a single horn, useless decoration, the kind of thing that usually served to look impressive on men that couldn't fight and hoped their image could make people believe otherwise. Except  _this_ rider could indeed fight, had been winning in every event thus far, had yet to be knocked from his mount.

He bore no family crest. Ignis noticed; Ignis noticed everything.

The way he didn't flinch away from incoming blows, the way he relied on speed in the melee, not just strength. The mud on his feet, the dents in his armor. That his squire seemed untrained, that he didn't have any other attendants. A commoner, just like the rest of the crowd.

But that was of no matter today. If ever there was a time to challenge the nature of his birth, this was it. The tourney was being held to celebrate the Prince's recent victory in Leide, but it served another function as well. He was looking for men to add to his ranks, his personal Royale Guard, if any of the men were impressive enough. Though most of the competitors in the days events were more preoccupied with gold reward to be offered to the winner.

Another cheer as the challenger appeared, Sir Ravus. 

A sturdy soldier, not quite so well loved as some of the other Knights in attendance, but he came from a good family, a respected name. Despite his distaste for doing things for the sake of appearance, that was exactly why he was fighting in the Tourney, glorious silver armor inlaid with purple, his squire carrying the banner of the Nox Fleauret's. He looked every bit the part of a respectable warrior, even if his eyes were cold.

The men were handed their lances, bright with garish colors and a page boy stood in the center of the grounds, flag ready to signal their start and-

Both off like a shot, hooves thundering on the ground, moving quickly, their lances lowered as they aimed and-

A great _crack_ and the black rider's lance shattered, wood splinters flying throw the air and Sir Ravus was reeling in his stead and-

The clash of armor as Sir Ravus hit the ground, unseated on the first pass.

The Tourney had its winner.

Cheers rose from the crowd again and the victor's squire ran up to him as he removed his helm

Dark hair fell to his shoulders, a wide smile on his face, dirt smudged on his cheek and pale blue eyes. Eyes that landed directly on Ignis, and his smile grew. 

The Prince leaned in close to his Shield, whispered something in his ear. 

Before the celebratory feast began that night, the rider, now Sir Ulric, was awarded his prize by the Prince, who also offered Knighthood and a place to stand behind him, an honorary spot in the Guard. He accepted with enthusiasm, even if all the while his curious gaze kept coming back to Ignis, something dangerous hovering just under the surface.

This was going to be a problem. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He'd barely been there an hour when Ignis decided it was time to make his escape.

He politely tried to excuse himself to sneak between the clusters of people, barely acknowledging he was there, wondering why he bothered to try and be heard over the thumping bass that was reverberating throughout the entire house. Someone had shoved a beer in his hand when he'd walked in, and Ignis deposited it on a decorative end table on his way out the back door. It was warm anyway.

Ignis Scientia, 17 years old and no social life to speak of. He'd come to the party mainly out of curiosity, wondering what exactly he was missing by never going to these kinds of things. As it turned out, the answer was _nothing_.

He slipped outside into crisp night air, breathed in deep and caught a whiff of a cigarette. 

"Didn't think I'd see you here Scientia."

Near the corner of the house, standing under a porch light attracting months and covered in a haze of smoke stood Nyx Ulric. Wearing the same leather jacket Ignis has come to recognize him by, red solo cup sitting on the ground by his Doc Martens. He barely looked in Ignis's direction before taking another drag. 

Ignis would have been lying if he said he wasn't entirely happy to see him; would have been lying if he said that maybe... just maybe he'd suspected Nyx might be there. 

Nyx had spent the last year sitting behind him in Chemistry, kicking the back of Ignis's chair and coming up with increasingly rude and inappropriate nicknames for Mr. Besithia. Mostly Ignis had to pretend not to be amused, he didn't think Mr. Besithia would still give him an A if he was caught laughing when Nyx started muttering that he should _just get a toupée already_.

 _Maybe_ he'd accidentally-on-purpose let Nyx see his answer sheet for a couple of their tests.

But it felt like they occupied such different worlds, Ignis never really knew how to talk to him. Nyx was friendly enough, argumentative and rebellious as he was, but friendly didn't necessarily mean he wanted to be friends. 

"Smoking's bad for you," Ignis said, because he didn't know what else to say, but felt like he should say something.

Nyx just laughed and shrugged, "I'd offer you one, but I know you'd say no. What's the matter, not having fun in there?" Nyx nodded in the direction of the house.

"I've decided parties aren't really my thing."

Nyx laughed again, dropped his cigarette and smashed it under a heel, "I could have told you that," he looked Ignis up and down, "You're the only person I know who'd come to a party wearing a sweater vest."

Ignis, suddenly feeling flushed and somehow incredibly small, let his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as he looked down. 

Some things, so ingrained in him every step of his life, things like _image_ and _propriety_ were impossible to abandon. Even if he knew others would mock him for it.

"Hey, don't be like that, I wasn't trying to..." Nyx was suddenly so much closer than he had been. "I think it's cute."

_Cute?_

"Are you mocking me?" Ignis hadn't quite meant to sound so bitter, but there it was, too late to take back now.

"What? No, no way, I mean I-" Nyx ducked his head, trying to get Ignis to look back up at him, "I mean I..."

He looked so earnest for someone whose default seemed to be to deflect, to joke, to exaggerate, and Ignis saw his brow pull together in indecision just before Nyx leaned in and kissed him.

He tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer and all the things Ignis thought should have been repulsive, but it wasn't, not at all. His hands snuck under Nyx's leather jacket where his body heat felt feverish against the chill in the air and he fisted Nyx's shirt like he needed something to hold on to, something to keep him steady when he felt Nyx's tongue, soft, gentle, and Ignis opened his mouth for more. 

Ignis didn't know much about kissing like he didn't know much about drinking, or parties, but he thought this one was pretty good. 

They parted. 

"You wanna get out of here?" Nyx must have sensed Ignis's hesitation because he added, "Takka's is nearby and they'll still be open. We can get some food," he nudged Ignis's shoulder, "You're buying though."

Ignis rolled his eyes, but he nodded, and let Nyx hold onto his hand as they snuck between the houses and made their way out to the street.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple more that didn't make the cut, idk they might get added later.
> 
> i don't really have any plans to continue any of these but i guess if you're feeling strongly about any particular one you can yell at me about it


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [@gunkers](http://gunkers.tumblr.com/) who requested some tattoo/flower shop au over on [tumblr](https://notthelasttime.tumblr.com/)

Selena is the first to notice, if only by virtue of the fact that they spend so much time in the shop together. More and more, ever since their mother had started to spend less time on her feet and more time at home. Nyx couldn’t blame her, long days were hard on old joints, though he had a feeling her absence from the shop might have had less to do with arthritis and more to do with a growing addiction to daytime soap operas.

But alas, a son’s duty is to take an interest the the family business, this one being a dim little florists shop, the best place in Insomnia to find rare blooms- or so the sign at the door proclaims. There had been a time when Nyx had a growing grudge for the place, a young boy spitting back all the things he’d heard the other boys saying at school, at that age where eschewing anything that so much as had a lingering whiff of the feminine was what boys did. “Flowers are for  _girls_ ,” he’d whined, standing at his mothers hip while she worked on a massive centerpiece, something grand in white roses, a special order for a wedding.

“Nyx,” she said, bending down to his level and taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger so he couldn’t look away, so he’d understand the gravity of her words, “flowers are for everyone.”

 

 _Flowers for every occasion!_ Chipped paint in looping cursive across the wide glass window, otherwise crowded with a display of foliage and flowers. The window’s wide, but not wide enough because Nyx still only gets all of 4 seconds to look when he’s lucky enough to catch the man when he walks past.

4 seconds to take him all in.

Dark jeans, a button up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his skin a blur of ink that Nyx can never make out in detail. Black glasses with thick frames today, it’s sunglasses when the sky is bright, v-neck shirts only when the weather gets scorching hot. Hands in his pockets sometimes, or else carrying a cup of coffee. Straight back when he walks, looking forward. Long legs and ashy brown hair, sometimes styled, sometimes not. He never turns his head to look inside. He doesn’t know he’s being watched.

“Huh.” Selena’s tone says it all, and Nyx knows he doesn’t want to look at her, but he turns his head anyway. There’s an expression on her face, something a little too knowing, just smug enough to be infuriating and Nyx knows he’s been caught red handed. So to speak; as it is his hands are laying useless on the countertop. Selena’s fighting back a smirk when she turns back to one of the vases on display, filled with frisco lilies, and she pinches off a bloom to tuck just over her ear. 

“Stop stealing the merchandise,” he tells her, words rolling straight off her back.

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m cuter that you,” she says, starts making her way into the back room before calling over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll get myself a cute tattooed boyfriend from next door.

Nyx, still embarrassed enough to be flustered only managed to yell back, “Shut  _up_.”

 

Crowe saw it next, thanks to bad timing. 

She’s gushing about her girlfriend- has  _been_  gushing for probably a solid 20 minutes while Nyx makes her a bouquet. A bouquet for said girlfriend, in celebration of their 3 month anniversary, which according to Crowe is a  _very big deal_. The primary flower is sylleblossoms (”Nyx she’s  _obsessed_  with sylleblossoms”), dotted with moon flowers (”her name’s Luna, you  _have_  to do something with moon flowers”), filled in with small bunches of tiny white flowers, an attempt to not make this bouquet look incohesive and dumb as hell. At least Crowe seems to like it. Then again she’s been too busy waxing poetic about the perfect shade of blue that is Luna’s eyes, so there’s a good chance even from her perch on the counter where she’s watching Nyx work, she’s not actually seeing anything at all. 

The bell over the door rings. Nyx is about to yell at Crowe to get off the counter while there’s a customer in the store, but the words die in the back of his throat when he sees who walked in. 

It’s him. Here in the flesh, looking half distracted at his phone as he walks up to the counter. Pinstripe shirt today, and Nyx is so busy wondering how anyone can wear suspenders in earnest this day and age and look ridiculously attractive and not just foolish, he almost doesn’t say hello. 

“Hello,” this man says and there’s the touch of an accent, a voice deeper than Nyx had been expecting, “I was wondering if you had any irises?”

“Sure. You want an arrangement or...?”

“No, just the flowers.”

“Color?”

“Whatever you have.”

Nyx moves from behind the counter to pull the flowers. Not the strangest request he’s gotten, although this customer doesn’t seem particularly interested in what he’s buying. 

“You want to write out a gift message?” Nyx asks, a standard question and most definitely not an underhanded way of finding out if these are maybe a gift for a special someone.

“What? Oh, no, I...” for this first time this man looks at him, truly, not in that half distracted kind of way he had been, and he lets a sigh escape from between tight lips, “I work next door, at the tattoo parlor. I’ve a request for irises and I can’t get the design quite right. I was hoping the real thing would help.” Frustration then, aggravated at a drawing that wouldn’t come together, probably much the same as when they had a big event and Nyx spent so long staring at the same flower arrangements they started to morph into looking like dogshit. 

“Well I hope this helps,” Nyx says as he rings up the flowers, staring at the back of the man’s hand while he pulls money from his wallet. Flames, something that should have been tacky, but the ink has been applied so artfully it looks instead like fire could shoot straight from his fingertips. Maybe it could. 

“Thank you,” he says, and all Nyx gets is a small little smile before he’s turned his back to leave. Nyx stares as he goes.

“Oh honey,” Crowe says, and it almost startles him. She’d all but disappeared from his vision, but now she’s wearing a look thats too close to what Selena had shown him before, aware to an uncomfortable degree. “You are so fucked.”

 

His name is Ignis.

Nyx learns this the next time he comes into the shop, requesting gladioluses this time, for the same reason it seems. 

Selena is there. “Nyx, weren’t you thinking about getting another tattoo?” she says, so sweetly, some innocent look on her face it makes Nyx want to kick her out the back door. He can’t complain though, because her meddling resulted in small talk, enough to make it not weird when Nyx asks for his name.

Ignis. 

 

They’re in a holding pattern.

Once every few weeks Ignis comes in. For orchids or hydrangeas or peonies. Tulips and sunflowers, dahlias, birds of paradise. Another tattoo, he says, but every time he spends a little more time looking at all the flowers, a little more time talking to Nyx. 

Selena, thankfully, has come to the conclusion that the best course of action at these times is to suddenly remember something urgent that needs doing in the back, or decide it’s time for her lunch break or a coffee run. Too bad that doesn’t stop her from hounding Nyx about it afterwards.

“Will you please  _do_  something about this,” she says, “it’s maddening to watch.”

“What am I supposed to do Selena? He’s just a customer.”

She rolls her eyes, mutters something exasperated under her breath. “He literally works next door. You  _literally_  work in a flower shop. For gods’ sake Nyx use your head.”

 

He decides on gardenias. And there’s no time like the present. 

He’s put it off for long enough, cold feet at the last minute every time. But it’s starting to feel ridiculous that a grown man can’t even try to put his best foot forward, make something happen. Plus he’s tired of Selena giving him that  _look_. 

He know’s Ignis is in the shop today because he watched him walk past. And maybe it’s just his imagination but Ignis seems aware of him now, when he passes the window, like he’s watching Nyx out of the corner of his eye, the same way Nyx has been watching him. Then again maybe he’s being ridiculous. Nyx takes his bouquet and heads next door.

He’s never been in the tattoo parlor before, even for all him and Ignis have been talking about ink (and all the time he’s spent staring at the exposed patches of Ignis’s skin, trying to put small pieces together into the larger whole that is the work of art of his body). The walls are painted a deep shade of red, wood floors creak under his feet. There’s a blonde kid sitting behind the counter up front, more holes poked in his face than Nyx can count and the kid asks, “Can I help you?”

“Is Ignis around?”

“Yeah man, one sec,” he says, before turning around in his chair and yelling, “ _Hey Ignis!_ ” to the back of the shop, effectively turning all eyes on him. Ignis looks up from where he’s hunched over a work table with a dark haired boy, looking a little surprised when his eyes land on Nyx and he’s quick to make his way up front. 

“These are for you,” Nyx says, pushing forward the bouquet when Ignis gets close. It’s easier than hello, or some preamble or introduction. Just spit it out quick.

Ignis’s brows crease, “But I haven’t ordered anything,” he says and Nyx lets out a laugh, jittery and nervous. 

“No I mean I got them for you, and...” he’s becoming well aware of the fact that they’ve got an audience. “Sorry, this is weird, isn’t it. This was a bad idea.”

“Wait,” Ignis stops him, hand shooting out before Nyx can turn to leave, and it lands on the cluster of stems, fingers touching. 

“ _He hasn’t had to tattoo flowers for months_ ,” someone yells out from the back of the shop.

Ignis whips his head around and hisses, “ _Noctis_ ,” but the damage has been done. Except it’s not so much damage. Not when Nyx can see a pink flush rising up from Ignis’s neck to his cheeks, the kind of heat Nyx feels blooming in his chest. 

He hasn’t had to tattoo flowers for months. 

“You want to talk outside?” he says, and Ignis replies by making a beeline for the door. He takes a deep breath as they step outside, embarrassed and trying not to show it. 

“I was going to ask... I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner some time.” It feels a bit like ripping a band aid off, but he wants the words out before Ignis can do something like apologize. He holds out the gardenias as his offering. Ignis takes them. 

He leans in, smells the flowers with a soft look on his face, takes one more moment, a breath before he says, “Yes, I’d like that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mass effect AUs: the chapter

Noveria was cold.

Cold and frozen and miserable, an endless blanket of whiteout snow carried on howling winds. A chill had set in from the first, a chill that seeped deep into bones and could not be willed away, fingers and toes that always felt icy, no matter they layers of clothes and socks or however hot showers he took.

_It was for the greater good_. That’s what Ignis said through it all, why he’d taken the position as a researcher in the first place. The pursuit of science; unimpeded, unrestricted, nothing but the work itself. It was what he clung to, in the isolation of the labs. His companions- a few salarians, an asari- all as hyper-focused as he was. All watching each other like they were nothing but more specimens, all with a little hint on thinly veiled distrust. 

Nyx was warm.

Warmer, as Ignis felt him shift closer and the scratch of stubble on his neck before he felt a kiss. Warmer, as Nyx’s arm around him tugged a little tighter and Ignis felt something in his stomach jump. 

He’d been alone far too long. It was like forgetting he was human.

“You don’t seem the Elanus type,” Ignis said, still feeling Nyx’s lips map his skin, and the hot breath there as Nyx laughed before he replied. 

“It’s ‘cause I’m not.” 

They’d spent the better part of the afternoon on and off fucking and napping. It seemed like Nyx was more interested in another round and less interested in idle talk, which was why it struck Ignis as curious when he paused and gave a serious answer. 

“I was a merc. And Omega was taking its toll on me. ERCS was looking for bodies and I was looking to get out.”

Ignis tugged him down then, to kiss him full on the mouth. He could not be accused of being tender, or caring. Not now, after the last few years. He’d had to make a brief trip back to Port Hanshan when the blizzard hit, and kept him stranded there for days. He was bored. Bored and at the hotel bar, when Nyx made his approach, bored and searching for  _something_  when he invited Nyx back to his room.

Was it boredom then, that made him want to kiss Nyx senseless while thinking about the life he must have lived, laid out before him in every scar on his body and every callus on his hands. What it must have been like on Omega, the kinds of jobs he must have took. The people he killed.

“How long’s the storm supposed to last?” Nyx asked, barely parting their lips enough to speak.

“Another few days, at least.”

“Good,” Nyx said, pushing Ignis down under him, making him feel alive. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“You’re incredibly lucky. You  _are_  aware of that, correct?”

As far as Dr. Scientia’s lectures went, this one wasn’t all that bad, even if he wouldn’t stop bringing up Nyx’s supposed luck. Luck had nothing to do with it as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t luck out there on the battlefield, laying down cover fire and putting their asses on the line. That was his team- the best of the best, and all flesh and blood.

And while no,  _maybe_  charging head first into a Geth juggernaut hadn’t been his smartest idea considering they were out of medi-gel and exhaustion from the unexpected ambush was setting in, but he’d had to end the fight one way or another. That meant no enemies left standing, and his biotics had always packed more of a punch up close.

“It’ll scar.”

“Add it to the collection,” Nyx said unbothered, as Dr. Scientia cleaned the blood off of his head, careful around the deep gash that ran down to his eyebrow. If a scar and some broken ribs were the worst of it, Nyx didn’t think he was that bad off. He still heard Dr. Scientia sigh through his nose, but when he spoke again his tone was softer than it had been, and not so reprimanding. 

“I understand your commitment to the mission, but there’s no need for recklessness. You won’t do anyone any good if you get yourself killed and there are people on this ship that need you. Commander.” That title, tacked on at the end like Dr. Scientia was afraid of getting too personal, but it already felt like they’d cross that line. Felt like it to Nyx, anyway, every time he found himself hurt and half conscious, laying in the med bay, staring up at the good Doctor and the concern written plain on his gorgeous face and thinking maybe he’d died after all and somehow made it to heaven. 

“You been worrying about me Doc?” he asked, feeling a little light headed and wondering just how much blood he lost. Enough to make he believe Dr. Scientia looked flustered.

“I worry about everyone, it’s my job.”

Nyx caught his wrist on the hand still hovering over his open wound, and he thought maybe the pulse beneath his fingers started beating faster. 

“Next time… next time we’re on shore leave let me take you out for a drink.”

“I must have given you more pain killers than I though, if you’re trying to ask me out,” Dr. Scientia said, as if he would be capable of such a miscalculation. 

“It’s not the painkillers talking,” Nyx said, standing up, still clasping his wrist, and immediately Dr. Scientia’s free hand was on his shoulder, trying to push him back.

“Sit  _down_ , you have a head wound.”

“Please.”

“ _Please_  sit down.”

“That’s not what I-” Nyx had to laugh as Dr. Scientia successfully pushed him back down, hand on his shoulder keeping them close, and making it so easy for Nyx to put a hand on the Doctor’s waist and pull him closer. “ _Ignis_. Please. Every time I wind up back here I think about how mad I’d be at myself if we never had the chance.”

_You wouldn’t be mad because you’re be dead_. He could almost see the words behind Ignis’s eyes, so close it was taking all of Nyx’s willpower not to pull him down for a kiss. 

Ignis licked his lips before he answered.

“Okay, Nyx.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“You’re working for Cerberus.”

Ignis had seen the distrust there, and that little ripple of anger just underneath the surface, as much as Nyx was keeping it out of his voice. His eyes had flickered from Ignis, his new array of scars, then to Ravus standing behind him, Cerberus logo displayed on his armor, and the cybernetic arm to match. 

No tearful reunions or falling into each other’s arms, not even a proper hello.

“It’s good to see you Nyx.”

“Good for you? Or good for  _them?_ ” Anger in the way Nyx started pacing, his words a little too rough.

“Nyx-”

“How can I know it’s even you? It could be anyone under that face.”

“ _Nyx_.” He didn’t want to do this. Ignis hadn’t come here to start a fight and make things worse. As much as he’d been wanting to see Nyx again, he hadn’t wanted things to play out this way, showing up out of the blue and looking every bit the agent of the enemy, the traitor Nyx thought he was, with Cerberus agents in tow.

He could see it all now, what he’d missed those two years, put together from the poor quality of Nyx’s gear, the armor covered in scuffs and dirt, a pistol hardly fit for a petty officer. Libertus hadn’t told him much, loyalties split between an old friend and the greater good, but he’d let enough slip. The careful and systematic breakdown of the heroic image of Commander Ulric. A war hero turned unstable, raving about a threat that wasn’t real. He’d gone and wrecked his ship and lost his crew. The Alliance wouldn’t discharge him, or dishonor him completely, they were too smart to get rid of something they could use. But a useless post in a nowhere colony, where no one could hear him making noise, that was something they could arrange. 

“Cerberus is the only one taking this threat seriously, you of all people should know that.”

“So they want you to believe.”

“The Alliance turned their back on you,” Ignis said, feeling his own anger rise. Because Nyx deserved better. Because he knew Nyx would never change. “I’m asking for your help.”

There had been a time when Nyx was his anchor in that cold and dark and empty space, something to hold on to. Something to keep grounded. A warm body to reach out to in the middle of the night. Nyx stared at him, hard and cold, stepped forward until they were just too close. 

“I know where my loyalties lie,” he said, and turned his back and walked away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Omega did not waste time on weeding out the weak. 

Nyx had seen it again and again, mercs too green to know what they were doing, civilians fresh off a transport ship, stuck on the station because they had nowhere else to go. On Omega you had to watch your back because no one else would. On Omega everything was dangerous, everyone had teeth and bit hard. On Omega, you didn't buy your drinks from a batarian bartender. 

That was the first sign the man in the club was an outsider, in case his appearance wasn't enough, just a little too clean, his posture a little too ridged, like life hadn't quite kicked the shit out of him yet, unlike the rest of them. Though there was something to be said for the fact that he wasn't trying hard to blend in- that would have made it worse. Omega could always sniff out fresh meat, no matter how much you tried to hide. Nyx downed the rest of his own drink, thinking he was about to watch another waste of a pretty face, and then before he had a chance to blink, the batarian was dragged forward by a fistful of his shirt, and hardly even a voice raised loud enough to hear over the music. The dagger stuck in the bar was a nice touch, charming in an old fashioned kind of way. The man got his drink, free of charge, and walked back to his corner table, ignoring any and all stares in his direction. 

Nyx decided his night was about to get a bit more interesting. 

He waited, had another drink and got himself sufficiently buzzed so as not to seem too eager, and carefully watching the man to see if anyone else made an approach. They didn't- something to be said for intimidation, but Nyx would not be scared away. He was wound tight enough to be glad to be back on Omega after months of jobs keeping him away. He was a Glaive, and he'd take the work he could get, but he'd have to tell Libertus to lay off the long jobs for a while. Until then, he wanted a warm body and a long night spent working out that tension and he'd seen something he liked. 

"Buy you a drink?" Nyx asked, and was met with an unyielding stare and crossed arms.

"I already have a drink."

"A dance, then," Nyx said, leaning over the table, "I bet I could show you some fun."

The man tilted his head, eyes running their course up and down Nyx's body and taking him in for consideration, before he stood up and said, "Lead the way." 

 

 

Three hours later, still gasping for breath, Ignis collapsed down on to the bed next to him. There was a little twinge of affection in Nyx's chest when moments later Ignis was curling up next to him and laying his head on his chest. Another reminder that he'd be away and sleeping with one eye open for far, far too long. Ignis. That was his name. And just about the only thing Nyx had learned about him from the time they'd spent dancing in Afterlife, hot and sweaty and bodies pressed too tight around them, to the time they got back to Nyx's closet sized apartment, Ignis dropped to his knees the moment the door had closed. 

Their silence was comfortable, the ever-present hazy light from the station filtering in through Nyx's solitary window, and he traced the shape of Ignis's shoulder blade with his fingers.

"You're not the usual Omega type," Nyx said, and he felt Ignis laugh against his chest.

"That obvious?"

"Take it as a compliment though, newcomers usually can't take care of themselves. And that whole thing with the batarian at the bar was kind of hot."

Ignis laughed again as he jabbed Nyx's leg with one of his knees, "I don't think the batarian thought so." It was quiet for a moment again as they both settled back in the bed, then Ignis said, "There's been a problem with contaminated red sand in the Wards, at the Citadel. It's laced with something fatal to humans, and the Embassy was getting concerned. I traced the shipments to a source on Omega."

"Oh?" A _fed_? Ignis didn't fuck like a good boy from the Citadel.

"A merc band calling themselves the Glaives. I came here to find them and put a stop to their little operation." 

_Shit_. Nyx felt everything stop, careful to keep himself from showing any reaction, wondering if this was some sort of entrapment. But the Glaives didn't even push red sand, Libertus wouldn't take those kinds of jobs. They were small time, hired guns for protection more often than not.

"But you didn't bring me back here to learn my life story," Ignis said, playful again as he leaned into Nyx's body and he felt himself respond in kind. 

There was an impulse to defend his honor, or tell Ignis the truth. But how would he react to finding out the man he'd just spend the last two hours fucking was someone he'd be hunting? Someone he thought was probably some kind of sociopath, targeting humans with tainted drugs? 

Nyx would end up with that dagger sticking out of his chest. If he was lucky. 

Ignis kissed him, climbed back over his hips, ready, horny, oblivious to Nyx having some kind of minor crises underneath him, Nyx's body betraying his mind as he started getting hard.

He was _so_ fucked. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might revisit some of these ideas or turn one of them into an extended fic at some point, but they're all pretty rough at the moment. because i can settle on an idea for long enough to actually work out the details.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for ignyx week day 5: crimson
> 
> was just going to keep it on tumblr since it's on the short side but since things are currently imploding over there... better safe than sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ignis was stuck in traffic. 

Impatient with every red light, nothing but the _tap, tap, tap_  of his thumb on the steering wheel within the insulation of his car. Impatient at the row of brake lights in front of him, and wanting nothing but to get home. 

The day had stretched on, endless, every minute dragging its feet. He’d been impatient from the start. Impatient from the time the report left on his desk had caught his eye a day prior - field reports and updates from the front. Dates and times, a list of troops and their scheduled travel back to the city over night. Snuck in under the cover of dark like they always did. He hadn’t slept, as much as he tried. He’d had too much caffeine, he’d been impatient and doing his best not to show his irritation just like he tried not to show disappointment every time he checked his phone and found nothing. He would never shirk on his duties, but he worked as quickly as possible with an aggressive determination aware that the sooner he finished the sooner he would be free. He left Noct’s earlier than usual after taking care of the essentials. If Noct noticed, he said nothing.

The sun was sinking towards the horizon, bleeding colors through the sparse clouds. Red sky at night… well, at least they’d have good weather tomorrow.

Ignis pulled the car into the parking lot and made his way upstairs.

The boots sitting in the doorway were the first sign he’d made the right decision in checking his own apartment first. He listened, nothing, then quietly took off his own shoes. 

The door to his bedroom was half shut where he’d left it open, just like the blinds were now closed and blocking out the outside world, even though he’d wanted to let some sun in that morning. Buried under the blankets of his bed he could see the shape of a body, and barely there was the rise and fall of breathing. Closer to something motionless, like stone, something dead to the world. Silent as he could manage after shedding layers of clothes, Ignis climbed into bed. 

Despite his best efforts, Nyx stirred. 

Nyx took the deep breath of someone waking from the deep, shifting slightly as Ignis settled in close whispering, “Go back to sleep.” 

The bed was warm with body heat, something Ignis had been missing. He leaned in to it, grateful it was there and not a cold and empty bed, but Nyx grunted when he pulled to close.

“ _Easy_.” Nyx’s voice was thick with sleep. The kind of sleep lasting longer than it should after too much time awake. Ignis gently pulled back, moving the covers so when he pushed the back of Nyx’s shirt up he could try and see through the dim light. 

With delicate fingers he traced the raw skin, still bearing the mark of the wound, pink and swollen despite whatever magic they’d used on him in the moment. Ignis traced the line again wondering who or what had done this. He wondered how deep the cut when. He wondered how much Nyx bled. 

Nyx reached back for his hand, holding it tight, tugging it away from the healing wound and instead up to his chest. “You’re hands are cold,” he said, and Ignis settled down against his back wondering  _how bad_. How bad was it this time. Reports couldn’t convey what morale was like, and a clinical number of the body count didn’t tell him how much each loss hurt. How they dragged that pain in to every fight surrounded by raging fires and the stench of machinery and death. It’s the kind of thing Nyx doesn’t ever tell him, but it’s irrelevant. Because Ignis would never ask.

“Tell me?” Nyx asked him quiet, and all Ignis could think is  _bad then, it was bad_.

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to the back of Nyx’s neck before stretching forward to whisper against the back of his ear. Three quiet words back.

“Again?”

He could smell his own shampoo in Nyx’s hair. He hadn’t even stopped back at his own place, and Ignis supposed he could forgive Nyx for the suspense of not calling or texting him. He whispered the words again. 

Nyx turned in the circle of his arms, facing Ignis to properly hold on to him, to press his face into his chest, muffling the request when he said it once more.

“Again?”

Ignis focused not on the blood he lost and spilled, but the blood still beating strong through Nyx’s heart, as he pressed another kiss to Nyx’s forehead, saying three words.

_I love you_.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the implied abuse tag applies to this chapter  
> though it's all fairly vague

He knew next to nothing about Ignis’s past. And Ignis like to keep it that way.

Nyx always thought of Lestallum as a place where people went to let old memories die. Maybe he wasn’t so wrong about that after all, that it applied to people other than himself. The heat helped. That was mostly why he came, too many old injuries and endless aches after so much time spent playing soldier. Going back to running a bar suited him just fine, even a shitty dive bar with AC that always broke. It seemed a fitting purgatory to live out the rest of his time. Quiet lives made for quiet minds. So long as those quiet minds didn't start thinking about the past too hard.

The bar was how they met- a coincidence in overlapping time, the chance of it a drop in the bucket in a city with endless places to eat and drink. Nyx had seen him plenty of times before wandering the market, knowing he shouldn't stare, an unwelcome stranger better off minding his own business. But he thought Ignis was pretty and he wondered what made a man look that kind of lonely and sad when all he was doing was wandering through spice vendors.

He was skittish. Skittish and weary and didn’t talk to most people, from what Nyx could tell, because Nyx only ever saw him alone.

He was alone at the bar, sitting at the end with a cushion of space protecting himself from everyone else. Not that there were many customers there, weeknights were killer shifts of low tips and sluggish time. Nyx let his curiosity take over, all his errant glances at the mystery man that never smiled, wondering where he got the scar on his lip. Watching the way the stiff tissue pulled at his mouth. He asked, "You waiting for somebody?"

He could see the wall go up, the hackles raised in anticipation when Ignis said, "Why?" All flat and suspicious and asking so many things at once; _why are you asking, why do you care, why do you want to know?_

Nyx shrugged. He pulled a beer from the fridge, popped off the cap and said, "'Cause nobody should have to drink alone." He gave the neck of his bottle a gentle knock against Ignis's glass, a quiet _tink_ in the quiet bar, and then he took a sip and got back to work. Aware of how Ignis followed his every move. Nyx made his rounds, drank his beer, and when it wandered back to Ignis on occasion with an impersonal question and inconsequential small talk, Ignis responded and that seemed enough like encouragement. His guard was up and looks impenetrable but he spoke. And drank. One after another, and Nyx occasionally opening another beer, because no one should have to drink alone.

And Ignis drank. And he stayed. And he spoke.

Until Nyx made the last call he stayed. The few flagging drinkers that were left trickled out the door, slow in their individual boozy stupors, until Ignis was the last left settling his tab. He stood to leave, and Nyx watched the pause he took and the little sway of his body before, not so much falling as slumping back onto his seat.

Nyx should have cut him off. He should have cut him off but he'd had such a good poker face, such an illusion of control. Nyx's mistake. One he could help fix, rushing to get out from behind the bar.

As he went to flick the switch on the open sign, some knowing instinct kept him from locking the door as he usually would, Somehow he felt it, that if he were to turn the deadbolt and barricade Ignis in, then this place would become a cage and it would be all Ignis would be able to see. Not well meaning intentions or the regularity of the act, just bars of a jail cell and his inability to flee. So Nyx left the door open.

He left a mess for himself to clean up in the morning and slipped an arm around Ignis's back, let Ignis lean on his shoulders when he stood up and almost went down again, worse off that Nyx thought he was. It was slow going just to get out the door, Nyx shutting off the rest of the lights as they went. Slower out on the uneven streets of hills and steps and cobblestones. Ignis couldn't seem to give directions back to his place, most of his words unintelligible. Carefully, and explaining what he was doing, Nyx fished his wallet out of his pocket to check the address on the ID.

 _Ignis Scientia_.

At least Ignis still had his key, even if Nyx had to help him fit it in the lock.

It was a tiny apartment, as most were in a cramped city. Tidy and mostly devoid of personality. 

He helped Ignis into his bed, kept him dressed but slipped off his shoes, made sure he was laying on his side, just in case.

He was going to leave it at that.

There was a magnetic notepad stuck on the fridge, half finished shopping list started and a pen clipped to the top. He left his name and number for lack of anything else better to do and dreams of a better apology for irresponsible bartending. He didn't know if he'd get a response, but a little big of hope followed him out the apartment door.

Hope that diminished then fully disappeared days, then a week since he saw Ignis.

He'd given up the thought entirely when a full two weeks passed and he got a message from an unknown number.

 _Thank you for seeing me home safe_.

 

 

 

 

It was like gaining the trust of a wild animal. 

Too much, too fast, and Ignis would burrow back underground. But Nyx held steady and he'd come back. 

He came back to the bar for a drink. Just one drink, sitting in the same spot he had before. He didn't look embarrassed, but there were small things, nervous tells like the rubbing of his fingers or rolling his lips. Nyx gave hi the drink on the house, Ignis thanked him again with as much ambiguity as language would allow to specify for what, and Nyx apologized again. 

"I should have cut you off," he said, wiping down glasses with a cloth just to keep his hands busy. "Just didn't realize how hard it was hitting you. You're a hell of a hard guy to read."

"So I've been told," Ignis said, and offed the last of his drink and left a tip on what he didn't have to pay for. "That's by design," he said.

 

 

 

 

Five months for a kiss.

It wasn't so long, really. Didn't feel so long at all, when Ignis flitted away whenever the mood suited him and was so cautious, so hesitant to keep things impersonal. Only about himself though. He'd ask about Nyx sometimes when they saw each other, occasional visits to the bar or running into each other around town. He'd ask him about Galahad. Not the war or why he left, like maybe Ignis knew somehow, but what Galahad had been like. About Libertus when Ignis saw them together. About how long Nyx had been in Lestallum or why he'd come there or how he came to run a bar.

But never about himself.

Nyx asked him to dinner sometimes. And mostly he said no, but even people that didn't need anybody for anything got lonely sometimes. Nyx always thought Ignis looked lonely. So they'd go to food stalls and sit outside at night, when the heat had worn down to something manageable, even still radiating off the city, if not from the sun.

On a night by the lookout where they'd wandered walking after getting food, neither in a hurry to run off, Nyx had took his hand. Everything was fleeting, delicate like morning frost quick to melt away and disappear. Nyx kissed him, gentle and only lingering as long as he dared growing used to Ignis's language in the way he said things without saying them. He tasted like spice and heat and Nyx licked his lips after.

"Can I see you again soon?" he asked.

And Ignis had said, "Yes. You may."

 

 

 

 

"You could stay," Nyx said one night when it felt it coming, Ignis getting antsy and soon he'd be gone. But it was only an option. Not a request with an obligation. He'd always give Ignis the option. 

"I should go..." Ignis said, quiet and unsure. There was still so much uncertainty laced in all their interactions. There was so much about Ignis that Nyx didn't know. 

"Just to sleep," Nyx said, and he meant it. Because he really didn't want Ignis to go. "All we have to do is sleep."

He didn't stay that night, and maybe it was only Nyx's imagination but when they said goodbye at the door, it felt like Ignis lingered just a little longer, seemed a little reluctant to end a kiss goodnight. 

The next time Nyx asked, he stayed.

Ignis was a restless sleeper, kicking his feet and mumbling things in his dreams. Things Nyx couldn't hear and other things Nyx didn't want to hear, things he pretended he didn't hear because it struck something in him, twisted at something awful and all the implications all the connecting dots in his head, things he was starting to understand.

Nyx felt something icy, clawing and low in his stomach, sitting there heavy all through the rest of the next day. The kind of feeling he had only ever felt in war, and maybe that should have scared him but it didn’t.

 

 

 

 

Rain didn’t often fall in Lestallum.

The pattering sound of it was odd, a quiet background distraction. Unobtrusive as it was, it was all Nyx could hear, nearly enough to drown out any quiet noise Ignis would make, even as Nyx hovered close over him. Feeling for every tremble, cautious of any sharp intake of breath, a sudden flinch. Carefully, Nyx moved his hips again. Slow and shallow thrusts, so very aware of every bit of himself that was inside of Ignis.

It felt less like sex, more like a balancing act experiment.

He wanted to move in, to clutch Ignis close to him, but he wouldn’t risk crowding. Not when he’d been so careful, when they’d finally gotten so far and all of his endless questions _you're sure? You're sure?_ Until his prodding for reassurances only seemed to make things worse. So he looked down between their bodies instead, watching himself rock. Back and forth, back and forth.

He might have heard a noise. So subtle it almost wasn’t there but he slowed, looked up and realized he didn’t know when Ignis had turned his head off to the side. The back of a hand resting on his cheek. A block, a shield.

“Ignis?”

His answer was the pattering rain and he waited, brimming with uncertainty. He waited until it felt like he wouldn't get an answer, then Ignis spoke, so faint it wasn't even a whisper.

" _Stop_."

Heart pounding, anxiety creeping in, gentle as possible, he pulled out. The moment he had enough room, Ignis was rolling on his side, pushing free of the unintentional cage Nyx had wrapped him in. Ignis sat hunched on the edge of the bed, still. 

Nyx reached out, and pulled his hand back quicker than if he'd been burned when he saw Ignis recoil at the touch on his shoulder. He felt awful; not because Ignis had rejected him. But because Ignis was upset and he didn't know how to make anything better. Because he didn't know what to say.

The moment stretched on, only seconds but seconds that passed like traveling through molasses, sluggish and sticky and awful. And then Ignis got up and walked to the bathroom, shut the door solidly behind him.

Nyx waiting, counting breaths and straining to hear something, an indication of what was going on behind that door. He wanted to walk over, not to ask Ignis to let him in if he needed space, but just to listen. To see if he could hear the sound of crying. But he couldn't hover at the door without Ignis knowing and he wouldn't appreciate being eavesdropped on. And it was irrelevant when Ignis started the shower, Nyx wouldn't be able to hear anything over the running water anyway. So he went into the kitchen. 

A pot, filled with water and milk. Black tea, a spice blend he could never get right himself so he bought it from one of the vendors that sourced directly from Galahad. Ginger. Maybe a little heavy on the ginger. But if Ignis was feeling sick then he thought it might help. He hated to think he was the cause of it, but at least, maybe in some small way, he could be the cure. 

He was stirring, keeping the head low and getting close to simmer when he heard the water shut off, then the quiet shuffling of walking, of drawers opening. Ignis walked slowly out into the kitchen, hesitation in every move and a mix of so many things on his face, none of them good.

"I got some more of that tea you like," Nyx said, nothing more than a glance over his shoulder, seconds to take everything about Ignis in, then back to staring at his pot and stirring. The water was getting ready to boil.

"Ignis?" He said, looking back over his shoulder again and seeing all of that uncertainty on Ignis's face, everything else pent up, walled in tight behind cross arms. He couldn't loose his courage now.

"I love you."

From somewhere buried deep inside of Ignis, it was like a plug had been pulled and everything drained out of him, face slackening, shoulders dropping, a sudden emotion on his face where before those eyes had been guarded. Nyx spared every moment he dared watching him, then turned back around and busied himself with shutting off the heat, straining the tea into two mugs so as not to stare. Not to pressure. So there was no obligation to say something back, to have a reaction. 

There never felt like any way to tell if he'd said too much, gone to far, pushed to hard. He'd wanted it said, though, and when Nyx handed a mug to a vacant looking Ignis, he took it and that was good. And when Nyx walked over to the couch, it took him a moment but Ignis followed. And when he sat it was close enough for their arms to brush while drinking their tea, and that was good too. Even if they sat in silence while the rain came down harder.

When Ignis finished, he placed his mug on the table and laid his head down on Nyx's shoulder. A thousand things burst in his chest, words worming over his tongue, but instead Nyx slipped an arm around Ignis's back and as timed passed they slumped further and further back into the cushions, Nyx leaning in the corner and Ignis resting against his chest, breathing steady and eyes closing.

They could sleep out here for tonight. That was alright. Best not to go back to bed and with thoughts of what was done in beds. They could sleep out here and listen to the rain, flooding allies and side streets because Lestallum never got enough rain to concern itself with proper drainage. It'd leave things a mess in the morning, but only for so long. Rain didn't pour forever, no matter how big the storm, and the next day the heat of the sun would burn through the rest of the clouds and bake the stone and cement until those stagnant puddles disappeared too. Leaving no evidence that anything had been there in the first place.

"Nyx?" Ignis spoke quiet, and Nyx couldn't give him more than a wordless reply, soft and sleepy and breathing in the smell of Ignis's hair. It was a long while before Ignis spoke again.

"I love you too." 

 


End file.
